


This Time of Night

by magpir



Category: Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Feelings, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, offscreen Adam/unidentified other character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 14:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15731652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpir/pseuds/magpir
Summary: When Adam turns up drunk at Jim's apartment and hits on him, Jim turns him down. But after, he can't stop thinking about it. About Adam.





	This Time of Night

The knocking at the door is loud. Hard. Like if Jim doesn't get to the door in next five seconds the person on the other side is going to come straight through it, door and all. 

He gets there soon enough, but when he drags it open and sees it's Adam Jensen on the other side, he thinks maybe it was a close thing. He's seen the kind of damage Adam can effect with those hands, after all.

Adam looms in the doorway, swaying, one hand going to brace himself on the door frame for support. Jim can smell the bite of alcohol on Adam's breath. "Jensen? What are you doing here? Are you drunk?" 

Adam's eyes are that bright, unnatural gold and he wets his lips, stepping forward, his hand slipping from its grip on the door frame. "Jim." That one syllable is packed full of yearning and desire. 

Jim knows he's in a world of trouble. 

It's not that he's not attracted to Adam, because he is, God help him, even though everything about Adam is contrary to what Jim Miller has ever found attractive in a man. He'd been saved, he'd thought, by the knowledge that Adam just wasn't interested in men; that any flash in the pan crush — and you were never too old for it — would remain that, and easily burn itself out in time. 

And if he'd ever learned Adam was into men, too, Jim had far too much respect for his position as Adam's boss to even consider it. Or that Adam would be into him. 

Except… except.

Adam takes a step forward, but Jim holds his ground. A step back could be taken as invitation when Adam's this drunk. Holding his ground puts Adam right up close into his personal space, so Jim's not actually sure this is any better.

"I came because…" Adam trails off a moment, biting his lip.

Reach out, turn him around and walk him back out of the flat, Jim tells himself. Instead he asks, "Because?" 

"Because I want you. And I know you want me, too—" 

"Jensen, what I want is for you to go home," Jim says, though it's perhaps not as firm as it needs to be. 

"Do you, though?" Adam reaches out and cups Jim's cheek, his hand cool against Jim's skin and for a moment everything stops. 

Then Adam's mouth is hot on his, smoky with the taste of whisky and— Christ, oh Jesus Christ, _Adam_.

Jim knows they can't do this, he can't do this, no matter how much his body is screaming at him to pull Adam in, grind up against him, then drag him upstairs to his bed — or even just to the stairs if they can't make it that far. 

Eventually, panting, he shoves Adam away. "No. We can't do this. I can't do this." 

Adam's mouth is red and wet and when Jim drags his gaze away to somewhere safer — and Adam's eyes aren't safe at all, all glazed with lust for him — Adam says in a husky voice like lightning up Jim's spine, "Why not? We both want this." 

"That… that doesn't matter. I'm your boss, Adam—" 

"And I don't care about that." Adam steps forward again and this time Jim has to concede ground. 

"Well, I do. You're a — you're an insubordinate pain in the arse, already. And the fact you had to get drunk to even come here?" Even though he knows he should, even though his reasons are better than anyone's, God, it's hard to turn Adam down. 

They advance and retreat once more. "And if I was sober?"

"Not the point, Adam." 

Finally, _finally_ , Adam steps back. He runs the back of his hand across his mouth, the brightness fading from his eyes as he does. He stares at Jim a long, aching moment, before turning and leaving. 

Jim doesn't bolt to the door to shut it, but it's a near thing. He's appalled he's shaking as he leans against the door, still aching with desire. If Adam had known how close he'd been to throwing it all to the wind… 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in and out. He's far too old for this kind of shit. 

-

It takes Jim hours to fall asleep after Adam leaves. 

What little sleep he does manage to get is restless and broken, punctuated by dreams of disjointed images and sensations… like Adam's mouth against his and those hands on Jim's skin.

Jim wakes, cursing everything that lead to this and Adam, too, for good measure, rolling over and punching his pillow in frustration, before being plunged back into dreams. 

This time it's worse; Adam's mouth around him, Jim's fingers tangled in Adam's hair as he pushes up into Adam's hot mouth. He wakes again, suddenly, at the sharp clench in his gut and the flood of wetness against his skin. 

"Fucking— Jesus fucking _Christ_ ," he groans, flush with mortification as he rolls onto his side, grimacing as he tugs the damp sheet away from his skin. 

Jim stumbles from the bed, furious with himself as he strips the sheets from the mattress. He blames it on how long it's been since he last had sex, on his god awful life, on that fool Adam Jensen, who came here drunk, offering himself up in a way that shook Jim to the core. 

And if Jim thought that was bad, it's going to be well nigh impossible to look Adam in the eye after this. 

-

Heading into the TF29 headquarters the next morning, Jim's step hitches a moment when he sees Adam's already there, talking to some analysts on the main floor. 

He'd come in early, telling himself that it was because he had a shitton of work to catch up on, and not at all because he wanted to sequester himself in his office for the day if, on some off chance, Adam actually arrived at work on time. 

Instead he's here already. Shit. You're a professional, Jim reminds himself sternly as, for a brief moment, he's filled with the urge to flee. 

"Good morning, Director," Aria says brightly as she approaches him, a steaming mug in her hand. "You're in even earlier than usual."

"Morning, Argento. Had a few things I wanted to catch up with before things got too busy." It's not entirely a lie. Paperwork's half a metre deep on his desk. 

"That seems to be common, today. I've never seen Adam in this early before, either." She grins a moment then looks thoughtful. "To be honest, I'm not sure I've ever seen him in on time, either."

Jim grunts. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Adam turn towards them at the sound of his name, and nods politely to Aria, heading strategically for the kitchen. Heading directly to his office would take him right by Adam and he's nowhere near ready or caffeinated enough to even consider talking to him. 

Easier said than done.

-

Later, after a few incredibly unproductive hours, Jim brings up Adam's TF29 file. He isn't sure what he's looking for, but he'll know it when he sees it— 

There. There's some extensive notes from Auzanne about Adam and what she believes are his coping methods, including alcohol — lots of alcohol — which wouldn't surprise Jim in the slightest. However it's more than that. Her comments about his alcohol use are linked with information on his augs, namely the Sentinel RX, where, underlined and bolded, she's made a notation that the aug processes toxins, like those from cigarettes, out of his body, so it's likely that the Sentinel would do similar for alcohol and other drugs. Which would need to be taken into account if Adam was seriously injured and required medical assistance. 

Jim sits back in his seat. 

Had… had Adam not actually been drunk? If not, why had he asked how different it might have been were he sober? 

And if he had been, how much had he needed to drink to still be drunk when he made it to Jim's? 

Unless he'd stood outside the door and bolted a couple of bottles of whisky. Jim should have checked for empties when he left this morning. The thought, the visual, makes Jim snort a laugh despite himself. 

"Care to share the joke?" 

Jim's guilty — almost guilty — start at Adam's voice would've been comical had it been any other situation than Jim snooping Adam's file for his own personal reasons. He nearly knocks his coffee over, swearing as he steadies it. 

When he looks up, Adam is leaning against the doorframe, a faint, warm smile on his face at Jim's reaction. 

He doesn't look great — no, that's not true. He looks great, because he always looks great, even when he looks like shit, which he does now — but he also looks like he's had about as much sleep as Jim has. Jim feels a flush of embarrassment start to crawl up his cheeks as his brain, his goddamned traitorous brain, furnishes him with a few incredibly hot, incredibly unhelpful images from his broken dreams. 

Adam moves into Jim's office, the door swishing shut behind him, and there's a tentativeness to his walk that makes Jim feel just a little bit better about everything. He's not confident where they stand now, either, but at the same time Jim's not stupid enough to think that means Adam's put away whatever inappropriate feelings he was having that pushed him to go to Jim's last night. 

Yeah, he does look like shit, like he hadn't slept enough, but now, closer… he also looks like he rolled out of someone else's bed that morning, his hair mussed and his limbs loose. There's — fuck, he did, there's a faint mark of a hickey on his throat that wasn't there the night before, that he wasn't even remotely in Jim's flat long enough for; if Jim was even the kind to do that (he wasn't). 

Jim… feels like he's been kicked in the guts, even though he shouldn't. He turned Adam down, so Adam was well within his rights to go anywhere else — to anyone else — but fuck, does Jim feel so disappointed and angry and jealous it almost chokes him. "What do you want, Jensen?" he says, working to keep his tone even and calm. 

"I came to apologise," Adam says. 

Jim leans back in his chair and fights the urge to fold his arms on front of him. He's not defensive. "For what?" 

Adam's eyes tighten a little (because of course he's still got those damned eye shields retracted and Jim can see every nuance of every emotion that crosses his face in his eyes) and he shrugs slightly. "Last night." 

"Nothing to apologise for," Jim says shortly. Fuck it, he does fold his arms. "As far as I'm concerned, it never happened." His gaze unconsciously drops to the hickey on Adam's neck before he jerks it back up. 

Of course, Adam doesn't miss it, and he's like a puppet with his strings pulled taut, all the looseness going out of him, his hand going to his neck. "It's not—"

"I don't care." He cares, of course he cares, otherwise they wouldn't be right here right now like this. "We're both adults, A— Jensen. What you do in your own time is none of my business." There, that seems dismissive enough. 

Adam refuses to be dismissed. Of course he does. "I can explain," he says, his jaw set in that determined way he gets that drives Jim up the wall, because he knows whatever he says or whatever his orders, Adam will do whatever he wants to do anyway. Adam's lack of discipline is not his most endearing trait. "It's not what you think — I mean, it is what you think, but it's… it's also not."

Good grief. "This is not something we're talking about here," Jim says firmly. They're in the office, for god's sake. They're in _Jim's_ office. 

"Then where?"

"What?"

"You said we're not talking about it 'here'." 

"We're not talking about this anywhere, Adam. Now, please, I have a lot of work to do." Jim unfolds his arms and sets his hands on his keyboard, turning his attention resolutely to the screen (trying to ignore the fact that it's Adam's file he still has pulled up, because of course it is). 

Over the desk, out of focus, Jim can see Adam opening and closing his hands. He stands there for a long moment, before he turns and leaves as silently as he came. 

When the door shuts behind Adam, Jim sags, because Adam wasn't the only one whose strings had been pulled tight. 

He doesn't feel any relief now that Adam's gone, he doesn't feel any closure now the conversation is done and he can move on. 

No, all he feels is that same roiling jealousy, sick and thick in the back of his throat, choking him. Still… 

It's for the best, he tells himself firmly, slowly breathing in and out. Jim's dealt with office infatuations before. Maybe not like this, not something he reciprocates no matter how much he knows he shouldn't, never something that's affected him quite like this, but he can deal with it. 

He just has to make sure not to treat Adam any differently now. They're both professionals.

-

"Jim?" Adam looks shocked to see him. 

Jim doesn't blame him. It's nearly midnight and despite the mountains of paperwork, he'd headed home earlier that day to sit in his big, empty apartment alone for hours. He'd taken work with him, but it had just seemed easier to sit, drink beer and think about all the things in his life he regretted. 

It had taken hours (he regretted a lot). 

"I'm sorry, it's late and I probably shouldn't have come, but… you were right." Jim feels sick even as he says it. "We need to talk about last night." They don't need to talk, he should have just left it as it ended, earlier in his office. He shouldn't be here right now. He shouldn't be entertaining any thoughts about Adam Jensen now or ever. 

"Oh," Adam says. Jim expected him to look relieved but he doesn't. Instead he steps out the door, pulling it mostly shut behind him. "Now isn't… it's not the best time." He winces a little as someone inside calls out to him. A female voice.

The jealousy is there again, hot and bitter. "Is that who—?" The words are spilling out before Jim can help it and he bites down on them to stop himself. No, he's a better fucking person than that. "Sorry. It's none of my business. And you're right," he aims for a brighter tone, "it's not a good time. I'll go."

"Wait," Adam said quickly, reaching out to grab Jim's arm, stopping him. "It's not — it's just a friend who needed a place to stay for a while." He bites his lip, looking at Jim a long moment. "Just... wait here. Please. I'll be right back." He slips back inside, pulling the door shut.

Jim waits, but the longer he does the greater the feeling that coming here was a mistake grows. 

Jim's halfway down the stairs when Adam appears again, this time in front of him. Did he… did he jump over the rail to stop Jim leaving? He doesn't even looked ruffled. "I said I'd be right back," Adam says a little reprovingly. 

"I—"

"I told her we need to talk about work. She's going to visit a friend," Adam continues casually, like he hadn't just jumped down from a few floors above in order to prevent Jim from leaving. 

It's vaguely terrifying how unconcerned Adam is with it.

Jim's so used to Adam minimising himself — in the office, and often on missions when he's there to be unseen — that he's startled by the way Adam fills the opening at the bottom of the concrete stairwell. It reminds him suddenly of the way Adam had filled his doorway the night before. He comes up the stairs silently, quicker than Jim expects and he steps back as Adam's suddenly all up in his space.

Jim's breath catches in his throat. Adam crowds him, deliberately too close, for a long moment and Jim lets him. Then he suddenly steps back, and: "Come on, she's gone now."

Startled, Jim glanced around. There was no one to be seen. They'd been the only ones in the stairwell. "Was that—"

"Last night?" 

"No, _fuck_ , I didn't mean — I'm sorry, Adam," Jim says quickly, because he's made Adam think he's fixated and he's not, honestly. "I was just going to ask if this was the friend you mentioned after London, the one who helped you during… everything that happened."

"Oh," Adam actually looks sheepish. "Yeah." He'd told Jim a lot of what had been going on during the hunt for Marchenko, behind the scenes and the things Jim had never been aware of, but Jim knows it's not the whole truth. He's never told Jim the woman's name, but Jim didn't blame him. Given everything… Adam needs to keep his own secrets, too. 

"She have glass cloaking, too?" Jim asks, because he's not sure anyone else would have just jumped off the balcony like Adam did. Adam shoots him a amused look and Jim can't help his own sudden smile in response. It feels good. "I know, I know, you're not going to tell me," he adds as Adam ushers him into his apartment. 

Jim's never been in Adam's apartment, before. He's not sure what he expected. The hangers just inside the door with each of Adam's expensive, fancy coats, sure. But he'd expected it to be more… stark and cold. Empty. Unlived in. Rather, in a way, like Jim's own apartment, he supposes.

But this is warm, and even though it's most definitely a bachelor pad — seriously, how does one man survive alone on so much cereal and alcohol? — it's… nothing at all like what Jim would have imagined. High ceilings and exposed beams. Feature lighting that made everything feel far more intimate. 

Dark but not gloomy… rather like Adam, in a way. 

They stop in the kitchen and there's the clink of glass against glass, pulling his attention. Adam doesn't even ask him if he wants a drink, just presses a glass into his hand. "What is this?" Adam asks quietly. He's not talking about the very good whiskey. 

"I don't know," Jim admits, taking a sip, leaning against the kitchen bench. He's… tired. He's tired of being alone, tired of everything. Tired of wanting something and never letting himself have it. He wants Adam. And Adam… he offered himself up and still Jim wouldn't let himself have it. "Were you really drunk last night?"

"Yeah," Adam admits. He scruffs a hand through his hair. "Doesn't change how I feel, though. I just thought it'd be… easier for me like that."

Easier for him? Jim wants to ask Adam if he's ever looked at himself? Anyone — anyone apart from him, he guesses — and Adam would only have to ask. All the augmentations, they certainly don't make Adam any less handsome.

Adam continues with in a distinct sheepishness, "I've never been very good at that kind of thing. So I thought… well. I thought I'd make it easier." 

That explained a lot. 

"And I think that's why I… after, why…" The sheepishness has turned to guilt and Jim leans forward a little.

"It's okay," he says quickly. He doesn't want to think about that, much less talk about it. The jealousy still simmers beneath the surface when he thinks of Adam and someone else, but— "It's none of my business what you do," he repeats what he said earlier. It's not. Never was.

Adam glances at him, expression inscrutable and shifts, propping his own hip against the bench so he's closer to Jim now. Almost too close. Or maybe not close enough. "Why did you really come here, Jim?"

"To talk."

"So you said."

Jim takes a deep breath. "You were right. Earlier, I mean, about how we needed to talk. But... you were also right last night."

Adam goes still. 

"I do…" Jim hesitates, and wets his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. "I want this." He sets down his glass on the bench and gestures between them. "Whatever it is. You." He takes a deep breath. "Us." 

Adam looks at him, his head tilted a little, the look in his eyes — bared, of course, like they have been since he opened the door — wary. "Are you sure that's what you want?" His tone is carefully neutral and after everything Jim doesn't blame him.

Jim looks at him for a long moment. He could still walk out of here. It's not like he shouldn't. It's not proper. Things may have changed between them after London, but Jim is still Adam's boss, and… and, you know what? Fuck it. He's working for a mole-riddled organisation that has been going out of it's way to keep him in the dark, and there's a massive conspiracy dedicated to global domination that his own bosses are all over… 

_Fuck_ what's proper. 

Jim reaches out, curving his hand around Adam's jaw, his beard prickly against Jim's palm. Adam turns his face into Jim's hand a moment, before Jim tugs him forward, pressing their mouths together, fingers sliding into his hair. 

There's a heavy clunk of Adam's glass skidding against the benchtop, then he's reaching for Jim, too. It's a lot like last night, the heat of Adam's mouth against his and the taste of whiskey. This time, though, Jim goes with it, pressing in against Adam and the low, pleased noise Adam makes in response is everything. Somehow they make it to the couch. 

Then later, the bed. 

-

Some time later, Adam asks, "Regrets? Or is that for the morning?" 

Jim glances over at Adam, lying on his side watching him. The defensive obstinacy in Adam's tone Jim recognises — like he wants to start something to protect himself — but there's an uncertainty that's unfamiliar. Adam's never uncertain, not like this. He's bullish and forward and insubordinate and a pain in Jim's arse all too often at work but… but this isn't at work, is it? 

This is Adam's house and in Adam's bed and Jim, yeah, well... Jim really does understand. 

He reaches out to wrap his fingers around Adam's wrist, tugging him closer. Adam resists for a heartbeat before going with it, allowing Jim to roll over him, pressing him into the mattress. They fit together well, he thinks, and as Adam's hands slide down his back he's reminded again of how they don't feel all that different against him. Adam's synthetic touch might be a little cooler than skin and a different (but far from unpleasant) texture, but Jim still thrums with pleasure as Adam skims his hands down over Jim's body, hitching him closer, thigh pushing up between Jim's. 

Jim looks down at Adam. "Regrets?" Jim echoes. "No. No regrets, not from me." Even as he says it he knows it's true. He won't regret this, even in the morning, even when Adam's standing across the desk from Jim, being as stubborn and irritating as usual. 

Adam blinks up at him a long, startled moment. He has his lip caught between his teeth and Jim just wants to kiss him stupid for it. Then he nods. "Good," he says. He shifts and twists, a sudden movement that puts him on top and Jim, _fuck_ , he's always loved being manhandled like this. Adam's grin tells him that hasn't gone unnoticed.

And then Adam kisses him deeply and all thought goes out of Jim's head.


End file.
